


just a matter of time (take all the time you need)

by thatemofangirl



Series: AUgust 2020 [19]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Parents, Artist Steve Rogers, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Domestic Fluff, Family, Father-Daughter Relationship, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kid Fic, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Modern Steve Rogers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Steve Rogers, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Single Parents, Slow Burn, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, Writer Bucky Barnes, not the Sarah Rogers you think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26018971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatemofangirl/pseuds/thatemofangirl
Summary: James Barnes is known as the veteran who shared his war experiences with the world. Writing them down had helped his transition back into normal life, but it also was a rocky road along the way.He still wasn’t exactly the same, having changed both mentally and physically, but he was slowly getting there. He wanted to be able to live his life, maybe even find someone to settle down with, maybe start a family, because it wasn’t worth it to take what life he had left for granted.Bucky just hoped he could leave the war behind and move forward in time to be ready to start a new chapter of his life. Because even if he didn’t know it, he had a man with a loving daughter waiting for him to be ready.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes & Rebecca Barnes Proctor, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Sarah Rogers & Steve Rogers
Series: AUgust 2020 [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858408
Comments: 38
Kudos: 118





	1. nothing is the same

**Author's Note:**

> Day 20: Single Parent(s) AU
> 
> Wellllll....this is getting more parts later.
> 
> Whoops?
> 
> Okay, so titles aren't my strong suit.

For having made it to the number one spot on the New York best selling list, Bucky sure didn't feel any more special.

His autobiography felt theraputic as he wrote it. Torturous therapy, really. It helped to an extent to retell the events he went through when he was deployed, but in the process of writing, he also had to relive them. By the end, the novel had taken three years to finish, but it had felt like a two ton weight lifted off of his shoulders.

It really had made him feel better that his book was able to connect with readers of all ages, people wanting to know how it feels to be in the middle of a war, fighting for your life, and also sympathizing with other veterans who had gone through and continue to go through similar things.

Bucky had never really thought he would regret it, but as he picked up interviews and his name started to circulate the internet, he couldn't help but to feel the media was just using him for popularity. Like they didn't understand that his book was a way to cope with the horrors he endured.

Despite the spike of recognition on the street, as if he didn't stand out enough, it didn't take long for Bucky to realize that no amount of therepy was going to help him move on. Not when he had a constant reminder that he didn't come out entirely himself after the army had medically discharged him.

He still heard the screams of children before they were killed in the shouts of kids playing happily in the playground.

He refrained from driving as much as he could because the any quick movement brings him right back to the moment before an IED would go off and he was afraid of traffic merges becoming enemy kamikaze vehicles sent to crash into his transport.

He couldn't even make popcorn because, even as ridiculous as it seemed, all he heard was rapid gunfire.

Even as he walked, he still kept his distance from other people. Especially when the streets were decently crowded. Ever since he came back from New York, he couldn't let anyone touch him without knowing for sure that they wouldn't hurt him. Even at the most comforting touch like a hug or something professional like a handshake, he still felt the harsh injection of sharp needles in his skin, the incapacitating pain that ripped through his body from the bullets his left arm caught shielding some of his brothers in arms while they were under enemy fire.

Bucky tucked his hands into his jacket pockets. It was warm out and he didn't have any real need for it other than to hide the metal of his prosthetic arm. He learned that ever since he returned to normal life, he came back with an unnerving aura to him unless conversation had been started and he could feel ease.

His jaw was always set and his posture tense, his eyes were distant and emotionless, and his hair—since he couldn't find it in himself to allow anyone to come near with him with a blade let alone trust himself to do it with the way he shook sometimes—had grown out to create what some people had called an dark barrier between him and the outside world. Some parts of him liked it, some parts hated it.

Part of him wondered if he could ever completely go back to how he was before he went to war: social and outgoing. He was slowly getting there, and just had to accept that it was going to take a lot of time.

It had come as a surprise when his publicist had called him, asking to meet. Natasha hadn't answered any of his questions, only saying that they needed to talk in person.

Bucky didn't know whether it was about his book or not, but there was something in her tone over the line that had convinced him it was at least partially urgent.

Natasha Romanoff wasn't as bad as the publishing void had made her seem. On his road to trying to get his book out there, multiple people had warned him against even asking her to help him. Told him that she was especially critical and only accepted what piqued _her_ interest and then would still ask for revisions before sending a rec to a publishing company. Bucky did have his fears, especially when she was the only publicist that left a message saying she would take him.

The rumors he had heard were only partially true. She was intimidating, even more so than he could be, with her scarlet hair and piercing green eyes that seemed to dissect a character and learn all about them with only a look.

But she was also ruthless and cunning, really intelligent and completely unpredictable. She utilized those traits to exploit them in all the best ways. She was the one who made sure Bucky didn't get cheated while making his deal selling rights to Marvel Publishing House, and she sat for countless hours just in conversation with Bucky to make sure that he was in the right headspace and completely sure he wanted his story out there for the world to read.

They had only known each other a little over six months, but Bucky considered Natasha a true confidant. He didn't know much about her past, but she seemingly knew him inside and out. After just a few meetings with her, he realized she understood him so perfectly because she shared life experience. He only got glimpses into her past; in offhand comments, in words spoken with strong certainty, but her life before the one she held now was not a pretty one, that much he was sure of. Natasha was also sentimental and caring in a subtle way she only started to show Bucky after knowing him three months.

He shed his jacket once he made it to the safety of his apartment, grateful that he had left the a/c on, because another couple of minutes, he would have been sweating so much he could have showered in it.

It was late, and Bucky had promised Natasha he would go see her first thing once her office opened in the morning.

He had just gotten back from a late night walk. He was trying to clear his mind after his thoughts had drifted back to particually vivid memories he didn't want to feel the emotions of at the moment.

He went to a small family owned restaurant and ate a warm filling meal. Most nights, he cooked himself, but he needed to be somewhere where he wasn't alone. Large crowds hadn't been his thing since he settled back into life in New York City, so that's why he went to the secluded diner. Plus, he had known the family for year, so it wasn't anything new and in fact a place he could find solace in and bathe himself in the good and relaxing memories he had made there.

Bucky used to love large crowds. He used to love the attention he brought to himself. He used to have an attitude that would compel people just to get closer to him, and it used to come naturally.

Now large crowds made him uncomfortable. The attention was sometimes overwhelming. And at times, it drained him to try and slip back into conversations and be completely confident in himself. To smile and flirt like there wasn't ever a care in the world.

Bucky always hated being alone, so he tried to fix that. He took a year of self care before he tried to even put himself back out there, gradually of course. He hadn't been able to hold any romantic relationships for long, and had a few flings here and there, but otherwise was unsuccessful on that front. He always kept in touch with with his sisters—his only family. If it wasn't for Rebecca and the twins, Bucky might not have had the courage to even begin being social again.

He had enlisted with the thought that he could be a part in doing the world some good, but he didn't realize the cost. He didn't even know if he even made the slightest difference.

Bucky went to sleep the usual way: with trouble.

He was used to sleeping not tense and comfortably again, but he was still on edge and able to wake up at even the slightest bit of noise.

He had learned over time how to control his dreams. For the most part, he could downplay the nightmares, pretend he was only viewing them from a screen like he was watching a movie instead of experiencing them again in the dreamscape. It helped him from waking up screaming or in a cold sweat and trembling. But sometimes, even he couldn't stop that from happening. The war would never leave; some days worse than others.

Waking up, Bucky went through his normal routine. He showered and he ate. He let himself enjoy the actions longer than he normally did because he decided not to go on his daily jog so he wouldn't be rushing to meet with Natasha.

Her office wasn't too far from his apartment in Brooklyn. About a 45 minute walk.

The morning breeze was cool and refreshing, making up for how the sun seemed to beat down harshly on the city even though it wasn't even eight in the morning and keeping it a comfortable temperature. Especially with Bucky's jacket.

To his luck, not too much of New York were morning people. The majority of anyone on the sidewalk were people going to work or athletic people on their way to the gym or jogging routes.

His trip had proven to be enjoyable so far. Bucky soaked in the warmth of the sun. Relished in the winds that blew through his hair and clothes. There was something calming about being alone with his thoughts on the city streets rather than being alone with his thoughts in a confined room.

"Sarah, watch out!"

Bucky's attention fell on not the man who had shouted, but to the small girl with golden hair flying behind her as she was running right towards him with a large toothy grin on display. Bucky paused, but the girl couldn't stop her feet in time, and ran right into his leg.

"Sorry," she giggled, her bright blue eyes showing no sign of injury. The pure look of fun on her face brought a smile of his own to Bucky's lips.

"Sarah!" The man had spoke again, his voice slightly breathless, and Bucky had looked up to see a man slowing from a jog to a complete stop in front of him and the little girl. They had the same blond hair, the same blue eyes, that Bucky instantly could tell they were related. He was probably Sarah's father. "Sorry, she didn't hurt you, did she?" He immediately asked, and Sarah ran to him before beginning to circle him in bounding hops.

The man held a hand out to make sure she stayed near, but Bucky could also see the other meaning of the action: to protect her just in case. Bucky didn't let the action disenhearten him, and instead he willed himself to look as inviting as he could with a warm smile and relaxed pose.

"Not at all," Bucky reassured. "Looks like she took it like a champ too."

"Yeah, she has a real thick skull that absorbs most impacts." The man laughed airily as Sarah danced around him.

"Must come in handy when rounding corners at that speed, yeah?" Bucky glanced back down at Sarah, who for some reason, had stopped spinning around her father (the resemblance was too strong for him to logically be anything else to Bucky) and was staring at him with wide and curious eyes.

"More than I would like, yeah. This might be the last time I say it'sokay to race back home." The man chuckled. Bucky noticed his eyes narrow as aqua irises studied his face like it was one he has seen before.

Bucky couldn't lie, he felt the slightest bit smug that the man was taking a moment to look at him. Especially because he was easy to look at. He had looked like he was a Greek statue come to life, fresh from walking out of the nearest museum.

"Hey, you wouldn't be James Bar—"

"Woah! Do you have a metal hand? Cool!" Sarah exclaimed excitedly, drowning out her father's question.

Bucky looked down and noticed his hands weren't hidden. He must have naturally done it when he relaxed his pose. His left hand was on full display, metallic digits catching the sun and making it gleam light.

"Oh. Um," Bucky suddenly became insecure, instantly tucking his hand away. "Yeah. It is."

He was staring to regret the new limb too. He had underwent a 48-hour surgery for it, the military paying for a fancy Stark technology prosthetic. It looked, moved, and acted like a real arm, responding to a neural chip implanted in his spine. He thought it was really cool, having his own inside joke of being able to call himself a cyborg like from one of his favorite science fiction novels, but when the public began to think of it more unsettling rather than impressive, he shyed away from showing it off. Thinking it might have made him look like a freak more than having a nub of an arm would have.

"Are you James Barnes?" The man asked with recognition after shooting Sarah a disappointed look, making her smile apologetically and stick close to his side. She couldn't have been older than five, and was very restless. Bucky hypothesized she would be bored with standing still in a couple of minutes tops.

"That's me." Bucky gave him another smile, but this one was strained. He had been the one who asked for people to know his face, know his story, when he wrote his book. He just wasn't prepared for the amount of questions people seemed to ask when they saw him in the streets. It always made him nervous and put in the spotlight. He used to love being the center of attention. "Look, I'm sorry. It was really nice to meet you two, but I'm in a hurry to get somewhere and the person I'm meeting doesn't like it when I'm late."

Bucky hated the excuse, even if it was sincere. He cringed at his words, and immediately felt bad when he saw disappointment cross the mans handsome features. He was still a people pleaser deep down.

"Oh. Yeah. Yeah, of course! I don't want to take up your time if you need to be somewhere." The man smiled, his tone and expression understanding. He reached for Sarah's hand.

"I'm really sorry," Bucky repeated, eying Natasha's office across the street on the corner.

"It's no problem. Really. I'll see you around?"

Bucky thought that was a weird thing to say before realizing it was a normal thing to say to someone as a goodbye. "Yeah." He replied, begining to step away and pass the man. "See you." He finished over his shoulder.

Inhaling deeply, Bucky stared down at his feet as he walked, hands tucked deep in his pockets. He could still hear the man and Sarah behind him, the soft laughs as he hoisted her up. Bucky spared a look back to see the man with Sarah sitting on his shoulders, freezing a brief moment when he realized he had done the same. For a split second, their eyes had met.

Bucky just continued forward. Natasha was probably getting impatient, she liked to hold him to his word in the most literal sense; this one being he said he would be there the second the doors opened, and he was already a couple minutes late. It was all in good jest, but he was sure to have earned at least two exasperated looks. He had little information as to why she wanted to see him, the only thing she had told him was that there was someone who had requested to work with him—a graphic novelist.

He couldn't for the life of him understand why, but he hoped Natasha would be able to clear that up. Above all, he hoped the trip would be worth it.


	2. an opportunity arises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For everyone who was following my AU-gist challenge, first of all: thank you for sticking around. I know I didn't really finish the challenge, but there's a chance I might work on the remaining prompts over time. 
> 
> Secondly: hey, this is actually a second part! So as you can see, I decided to to work on continuing this fic first in my long list of incompleted supposed to be "oneshots". Updates are most likely going to be sporadic and unpredictable, so be prepared to wait, but I refuse to just leave this unfinished. 
> 
> So without any further wait, go ahead and read!

"You're saying an artist wants to write a story with . . . me?" Bucky watched Natasha with careful eyes, trailing as she sighed and rolled her eyes. "Are you sure he meant me?"

"Yes. You: James Barnes." She pushed forward a clipboard and hesitantly, Bucky picked it up, skimming over the information written down.

"Steven Rogers." He read the name at the top of the page. "Graphic novelist. I've never heard of him."

"Well, I never really pegged you for a comic book type, so I wasn't expecting you too. However, that isn't the point. He's heard of you, and that's what matters here."

The rest of the text on the sheet was basic info. Address—Bucky noticed he lived not even a block away from the office he was sitting in—age, credentials, job—he was a college art professor as well as being an author—and his published works. It seemed like this guy was doing pretty well for himself.

"Why?" Bucky looked up to find Natasha's gaze focused on him, patiently waiting for him to finish reading. "He doesn't seem like the type of person you'd take on as a client."

"He's not. He came to me because _you're_ _my_ client. He was looking for _you_. Aren't you listening to anything I say, Barnes?"

"I'm not sure there's a safe way for me to answer that."

Natasha sighed again. "Steve is writing a story with a character and plot that centers around fighting in a war and—"

"No." Bucky stated firmly, but Natasha kept going. "No!"

"—he wants to make it as authentic as possible." She kept her voice cool even as Bucky rose his voice slightly. "Bucky, this is a golden opportunity. He wants you to be co-author."

"I can't write another book about my experiences. Let alone see pictures to go along with it." As if being reminded brought him straight back, his left shoulder began to burn like that truck just sliced through his flesh and bone and was still pinning him to the ground.

"This isn't about you, per se. It's a fictitious story. But Steve really would like you to give him advice, guide him along, put in your own thoughts about the storyline. He really wants the two of you to work together. He was rather very adamant about it. I don't think he'll let up without a good reason. Besides, you were the one who wrote an entire book. That kind of gives the impression you're ready to relive some of those memories."

"Isn't me saying no reason enough?" Bucky was getting restless in his seat. He refused to acknowledge that Natasha last comment was right. She normally was. His grip was tight on the clipboard in his hands, and afraid he was going to break in, he placed it back onto Natasha's desk. "I already went through this once, and honestly, it didn't help the way I thought it would."

"But it _did_ help," Natasha insisted softly. Bucky could tell she wasn't trying to pressure him into one decison or the other, she was just laying out the facts He couldn't attack her for trying to get him to accept another job. Although, if he did, technically, she would be getting paid. Since Bucky was still under her contract and all that.

"Maybe, on some level." Bucky licked his seemingly dry lips and looked down at his hands—one warm flesh, the other a cold glossy charcoal colored metal. "But all in all: it didn't make me worse, but it didn't make me better."

"Maybe this is a second chance?" She prompted. "I know how you feel about therepy, so perhaps this could be another way to work past anything still bothering you." Bucky's face fell flat as he suppressed the urge to glare at the woman in front of him.

"Or it could make me worse."

"Stop being so pessimistic. Problems don't get solved that way. Steve should be back soon."

If Bucky had any beverage with him, that would have been the perfect moment for a spit take. Because of the lack on that front, he nearly choked on the air he breathed in.

"Excuse me; did you just say 'be here soon'?" Bucky coughed, sitting up straighter in his seat and glancing nervously at the door behind him.

"Yes. He was here before you actually, but had to take off. Family emergency." She stated cooly. "He wanted to meet you face to face and ask you himself."

Bucky began to stand, reaching for the jacket that was draped across the back of his seat. "Look Nat, I appreciate you telling me and all, but I really don't want to do this. I'm trying to get better, and I don't want to risk anything that might set me back." She opened her motuh to protest, but Bucky got there before her. "Could you tell him I appreciate the offer, but I would have to kindly refuse. Tell him to find another vet or something."

Bucky felt a little ball of guilt begin to form, but he crushed it as soon as he could. This was his choice, and had the right to choose what he thought would be best for his mental health.

"Bucky, wait—" It wasn't Natasha's voice that stopped him, rather than the phone in front of her ringing mixed with his curiosity.

Picking it up, Bucky watched as Natasha answered the call. He slipped his arms through the jacket sleeves and pulled a rubber band out of his pocket.

He noticed Natasha's expression shift to what looked like indecisiveness and then she shot a look at Bucky as she listened and he tied back his hair.

"I'm sure the two of you can work out another date to fit in all three of our schedules."

"Natasha. . ." Bucky warned, not liking who his brain was thinking was on the other end of that line and what she was saying to him.

"Shh." She brought a finger up to her lips before leaning casually back in her chair. "It's okay. The unexpected happens. I do have to warn you: it might take him some time to come around."

"I don't want to—"

"Yes. Thank you." She raised her voice just slightly, enough for Bucky to get the hint she wanted him to be quiet. "Of course I'll email his number. Just give me a minute to finish up here." Whatever he said made Natasha's lips quirk up at the corners. "Goodbye."

"I can't believe you just did that!" Bucky huffed in disbelief.

"Give him a chance," she coaxed, her voice compelling. Bucky didn't appreciate that she was using her bargaining powers on him. "You'll always be able to back out once you start. Where's the harm in trying?"

"Why does it seem like you're trying hard to get me to partner up with this guy?" Bucky narrowed his eyes and waited for an answer. In return, he recieved a half-hearted shrug.

"What did he say on the phone?"

"So you picked up who it was." She stated as if it wasn't obvious. "He can't make it today. He got caught up helping his neighbors, and then he has to get to work." Natasha explained and Bucky straightened his jacket, patting his pockets to make sure he had everything.

"Why do _you_ want me to accept this?"

"Other than me doing my job and presenting you with more opportunities? I honestly think this could be good for you. You'll be socializing on a consistent basis, educating someone, and working through your past all at the same time."

Bucky scoffed, but in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but to grasp at those words.

"I'll see you later, Natasha."

"Hey," she said as he began to turn. "Just think about it." She said softly as she took the paper from the clipboard and quickly folded it, her arm outstretched for the man to take Steve's information. "Maybe you'll call him before he calls you. That'd be a pleasant surprise."

Bucky paused a brief moment before he accepted the slip of paper. Carefully, he pocketed it.

"I'll think about it." He agreed.

Looking back at the redhead, he saw her smiling appreciatively in his direction. Something no one truly saw often, he'd figured out over time. He returned a small smile as a goodbye before pushing open her door and walking past the elevators straight to the stairs.

Bucky truly did prefer walking outside. He felt like he could truly breath once he was out of the buiding and back onto the street. He eyed the park just around the corner, and deliberated on spending some time there just to unwind and think over the offer, but he decided just to head back home instead.

It wasn't long before he passed the spot where he had run into that man and his daughter. Bucky wasn't expecting him walking past the stop to bring up the memory from just a little while ago, he had other things to worry about, but since it was now on his mind, he realized just how unordinary the meeting had been.

That man sure did seem to recognize him. And while Bucky would have brushed it off as someone who read his book, seen his picture—either at the back of the novel or in one of the many news articles that had been written about him— but there was some sort of excitement in it he couldn't place. Couldn't think of any tangible reason why it should be there.

As Bucky continued to walk, he shook the thought out of his head. Chalked it up to him just overwhelming a situation. That was a serious problem of his ever since he came back a changed man.

"Allrighty everyone, single file." Bucky glanced up as he heard a man speak to a couple of children as he jogged down the front steps of one of the many brownstones lining the street just a couple yards in front of him. "No pushing—yes Coop, I'm talking about you. File into your respective seats please. We gotta get your butts to school." Then he chuckled.

Bucky saw a woman with brown hair climb into the drivers seat of a silver minivan. The side doors were flung open by two older children. The man was holding another kid in his arms, a boy around the same age as the girl he saw earlier—Sarah.

What seemed a little coincidental about watching the family all settle into the van, was that Bucky was sure he saw a little girl jump in, the flash of straw blonde hair was what caught his eye, sticking out from the other brown haired children.

He knew it couldn't have been Sarah. This was a completely other family. Besides, her father was nowhere to be seen. It was just his brain connecting similarities because the girl and her father was just on his mind. He shook it off as he walked past, not bothering to spare another look back. He continued on his journey home.

Bucky made a beeline for his couch once he had gotten back home. He had seemed exhausted for some reason and just needed to sit down. Take a breather.

Shedding his jacket, he heard the sound of the paper with that artist's information on it as it crinkled. Pursing his lips, Bucky pulled the paper out and unfolded it, looking over the words he had already read back with Natasha.

He wanted to apologize to Steve. He truly did. From what little he knew about him, it seemed to Bucky that he was a hardworking man who had honest and good intentions. What still puzzled him was why he sought out Bucky specifically. Maybe it really was what Natasha had said. That since he already put his story out there, it provoked the idea that maybe he would be up to talk about some more.

Bucky sighed. Was it really worth it to throw this away?

Bucky hadn't really found a solid job yet. He was living on his book revenue and his VA compensation checks he was getting for losing his arm in the military. But the revenue was steadily declining as he became a thing of the past, and the checks were soon to come to an end. Especially with his new arm. Once re-evaluation came around, they were bound to end.

Bucky glanced at his fridge, knowing it was due for a restocking soon. And then his mind drifted to this months rent bill. 

So maybe the extra money wouldn't hurt to try and stock up on. Even if it was only a portion. That is, if this Steve guy was sincere in giving Bucky credit as a co-author.

But whether being able to verbally work with someone, tell them how it feels exactly to be under gunfire or hiding out in trenches in 102° weather—literally fighting for your life, all for a fiction story, was the question. Bucky didn't know if it would be worth it reliving that horror all over again.

As Bucky discarded the paper to the seat next to him, letting out a large breath has he held his head in his hands, he realized that he already relived that horror nearly every day.

Nothing could ever get more vivid than the memories he tried hard to lock away in his head. So he figured the real question was whether he was willing to actively bring them up and discuss them with a random stranger.

No. The answer was no.

Bucky groaned, his hands shifting to cover his face instead. He flopped back against his couch and willed any pleasant picture to show up behind his eyelids. He didn't care what it was, just something that could get his mind off of the war, off of working with a graphic novelist.

It would be an understatement to say for going to meet Natasha so early, he wasn't expecting that at all. He should have been, but he wasn't.

There wasn't much to do around Bucky's small aparment, but he decided he needed to distract his mind for a little while. He didn't feel like going back out, or watching TV, so he settled on cooking some kind of meal.

Standing up, he turned in the direction of his kitchen, set on trying to forget about the graphic novel and to forget about Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave any comments! I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	3. maybe the road is already clear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3! Woo!!

Bucky had come to the conclusion that absolutely nothing had changed about his bedroom ceiling as he stared at it while he lied awake in the dark in bed. It was still the same cream color, even if it looked blue-grey in the moonlight streaming in through the curtain drawn windows.

Out of annoyance, Bucky hopped out of bed and untied the string holding back the thin fabric and it fell in folds covering the glass. He repeated the action for the second window as well, and in two minutes, the room was enveloped in near complete darkness.

Over the past day and a half, he had been steadily feeding himself excuses as to why he couldn't calm his brain down enough to rest.

Too much caffeine. Too much blue light. He even went to the lengths to try and convince himself that his insomnia just happened to come back to try and force him to rethink his decision.

Well, it was working.

"Are ya happy now?" Bucky murmered to whatever higher universal power wanted to torment him with his thoughts.

As much as he tried to push it away and forget about it, Bucky knew the real reason why he hadn't been able to do any normal things without being severely distracted.

Bucky had always had a big guilt complex, ever since childhood. He loved helping others and making sure they were happy. And if they weren't— no matter whether it was from his doing or not— it made Bucky feel like he had to make them better.

Maybe it was because he grew up a big brother, always protective of his sisters and therefore anyone else who needed help, or maybe it was just because that's just who he was.

That small baseball of guilt Bucky made sure to stomp away the second he felt it back in Natasha's office had come back full force. This time as a wrecking ball to his gut.

Bucky knew he should feel honored. This man—Steven Rogers—had personally requested _him_ out of all the other veterans that could be open to this offer, this opportunity. Bucky didn't know what made him any special, but obviously it had been something.

If he was being honest, he _did_ feel honored. It was truly his own fears keeping him from accepting immediately.

But his fears were completely rationalized; no one could say otherwise. Bucky had been a big advocate for mental health and taking care of yourself before he enlisted, and became an ever bigger one once he came back. He knew the things that made him feel happy, healthy, and comfortable. And while he knew that maybe having another (slightly different) outlet to working through his time serving the United States could potentially help him move forward even stronger than before, he wasn't entirely sure the benefits outweighed the faults.

While he was writing his autobiography, it took so long for Bucky to finish because every single thing he mentioned brought up a memory he had to relive—to work through. Sometimes it took him a couple of minutes to breathe through, sometimes it took days. Sometimes even weeks to get back into the right mindset.

He became self destructive and loathing. He recoiled into himself and was sporadically abrupt, not able to focus on one singular thing. Every one of his senses heightened and he became paranoid of every little sound or touch, acting what would be unnecessary for the place he was in, but he wouldn't be able to help it.

He didn't want to risk the chance that he would go into one of those states around Steven. He normally always went into them alone, but he didn't want to take the chance that he could possibly hurt someone else. Not again.

He knew the chances, and since it wasn't zero, he was trying his hardest to make up his mind and stick with his decison.

Maybe some therapy would do some good, Bucky thought as he sat back down on his bed in the dark, remembering the offhand comment Natasha made the other day. Then again, he was put in the same situation: to talk to a stranger about his past. The only difference was that _that_ stranger would purposely try and pick out all the problems and try to get Bucky to solve them.

If he willingly wanted someone to dissect his person, he would turn to Natasha or even Becca. That girl had always seemed to be able to read his mind.

But even after establishing that accepting the job offer would be too risky, the thought of turning him down still ate at Bucky until he was forced into realization that he probably wasn't going to stop feeling bad until he accepted and at least gave it a try.

Surely Steven would understand that what he wanted Bucky to do would be overly sensitive and delicate. If he settled on giving the co-authorship a go, some guidelines, rules, and warnings would have to be placed instantly and become effective immediately.

Bucky would have to have an out. That would be the only way he would ever agree to working together.

Satisfied with the progress he had been reluctantly avoiding, Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, untangling some minor knots before laying back down on his bed. He figured he might be able to get some sleep now that he cleared away some of his worries and started forging a path of coming to a clear decision.

Bucky didn't remember falling asleep, but the sound of his phone ringing sure woke him up.

Squinting to shield his eyes from the bright morning sun still shining through the curtains, he sleepily reached for his phone and answered the call, holding the screen to his ear without checking the caller ID.

"What?" He grunted, his head falling back to his pillow and his eyes stating closed as he waited for an answer on the other end.

"Well good morning to you too," Rebecca's voice piped, all too cheery for how early it seemed. Then again, she was waking up early for classes and was always naturally a morning person while Bucky had always been one to enjoy sleeping in more than he should.

"Hey Becca." Bucky's voice was scratchy and his throat dry, and he made a mental note to get a glass of water once he got out of bed. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"Actually, this is about you." She said accusingly.

"Huh?"

"When where you going to tell me Professer Rogers asked you to write his next book with him?"

"Huh?" Bucky repeated. His brain didn't quite process her words just yet, it still being in the waking up stage, but once it did, he instantly woke up and sat upright. "No. No. I mean, yes, he did ask me—"

"You're doing it, right?" His sister interrupted excitedly. "That's amazing Buck!"

"Hey, just hold your horses there. I didn't say nothing about working with this guy. Professer Rogers?"

"Oh. Yeah, he teaches the art class I'm taking for fun over at ESU. We basically did nothing yesterday—make-up day—and he was a little late, so he just told the class the story why. All of us are pretty excited for his new graphic novel. He then singled me out because he remembered you were my brother."

"Uh huh? And?" He knew there was more. There normally always was.

"Then he asked if you wouldn't mind working with him so of course I said you would love too—"

"Hey!" Bucky immediately interjected. "You _didn't_!"

"I did?" Bucky groaned and dragged a hand down his face. Well this made things harder. Now he had to include another apology. "Why? What's wrong?"

"I don't...I—come _on_ Becca."

"What's so bad about telling him what you're already going to say? Besides, I just set you up with my hot art professor!"

"What? No! Why would you tell him that? Why would you say that?"

Bucky felt like burying his face into the pillow on his left and screaming into it. It sure would spare his neighbors from thinking he was being murdered again.

"Face it Bucky. we all know you need a date. And with something like this, you can get multiple dates." He heard her snicker over the phone.

"You are so lucky you're over eighteen."

"Oh yeah? What would you do?"

Bucky just growled in return. "First of all: you better stay safe in Manhattan for now. Secondly: why would you get his hopes up like that? I haven't even made my mind. And thirdly: since when have you ever had Steven Rogers as your art professor?"

"This term. Figured you didn't care much about art, and since it's just more of a hobby of mine rather than my future career choice, that it wouldn't matter too much if I brought it up. That's not the point however—I honestly hope you aren't angry because I'm on my way to you right now anyway—the point is that I scored you a date and a perfect job opportunity!"

"You did nothing. We'll talk about this. Meet me at Corner Café because I need to shower." Bucky paused, sighing and letting the irritated tone of his words disappear. "Love you Becks, see you soon."

"Yeah, yeah I know. Love you too. You got twenty minutes I'm basically here already."

"Got it. Bye."

He heard his sister say a goodbye as he pulled his phone from his ear and hung up.

Using his right hand, he rubbed what sleep there was left from his eyes but ultimately flopped down on his back, sinking into the mattress. Pushing his hair away from his face, he huffed another loud sigh, this time from being placed under a tight time limit. Rebecca was normally a pretty nice person, but to make her annoyed or to get on her bad side, she turned into a force to be reckoned with. A little like Natasha, now that Bucky was thinking about it.

Getting out of bed, he grabbed the first outfit his hands touched, not caring much if it really matched. Most of his wardrobe was decently neutral so most things matched anyway. He took a quick shower to help himself wake up completely, pulled on his boots, tied up his partially dried hair into a loose bun to try and help the water droplets from soaking his shirt and jacket.

Corner Café was just a little diner a couple blocks away from where Bucky lived. It was only just down the street from where he, Rebecca, and his two other sisters Elizabeth and Isabella grew up with their parents. It was a nice family run place, and had pretty much become the go to whenever anyone in the family wanted to catch up—besides the Barnes' residence of course. As Bucky passed his parent's home, he knew when he got back from meeting with Becca, he would have to stop by.

Pushing open the door, Bucky heard the soft jingling of the bell fill the air. The owner and her husband here busy cooking for the morning rush in the back, but he smiled at seeing glimpses of their familiar faces through the window separating the kitchen from the dining part of the shop.

Making his way across the hardwood floors and dodging his way through both the people leaving with their coffees and the full tables, he sat down across from his younger sister, who had been eyeing him impatiently since he walked through the door.

"Took you long enough," she sighed, pushing a cup towards him. Bucky looked at it with an amused brow raised. "Relax, it's not liked I poisoned it or anything. I just know you get cranky without some kind of caffeine. Kinda runs in the family."

"I don't get cranky." Bucky protested half-heartedly, taking a cautious sip of the beverage. It was a little warm (that was on him) but otherwise exactly like how he would have ordered it. Then he gulped down nearly half the cup in one fluid swallow.

"I can think of numerous occasions where you've been cranky. I'll list them out for you if you'd like."

"No thanks, I think I'll be okay."

"Suit yourself." Rebecca smiled and Bucky felt immediately relived he was talking to her. It had been a while since he'd last seen her, her being swamped with college and all, and he was grateful she decided to visit home for the weekend.

"So why the urgent need to talk to me and only me?" Bucky asked, knowing where the conversation was inevitably going to end up and just wanting to cut to the chase.

Rebecca groaned softly as she pushed a sheet of her dark hair behind her ear and took an inhumanly large bite of her breakfast sandwich. "Because I know you Buck," she spoke with her mouth partially full. "And I knew you were probably going to turn down this job."

"You're saying this as if I'm doing it already." Bucky pointed out. Clearly unamused.

" _That's_ because I'm here to help lure you over to the dark side!" She grinned. "By the time I'm through with you, you'll be begging to work with Rogers."

" _Seriously_?"

"Okay, okay, maybe that's a little over the top. But just hear me out: you and him work together; two birds with one stone. You'll be able to work through some..." Bucky narrowed his eyes. "...stuff, _and_ you'll earn some extra cash!"

Bucky went to open his mouth to begin to argue, but Rebecca wasn't finished.

"Ha! Three birds! And you'll be spending some quality time with the best looking teacher on campus!"

"You _are_ his student, aren't you?"

Rebecca shrugged. "Hey, I'm just stating facts. Besides, he doesn't go for girls anymore."

"Anymore?" Bucky choked.

"Irrelevant. What I want to happen, is for the both of you to hit it off, start dating, for you to stop being such a Grumpy Gus all the time and let someone other than me and the twins in, and then eventually, I'll finally be an aunt and have a little girl to spoil with all of my non-existent money!"

"I think you're jumping the gun by about a lightyear there." Bucky finished off his cup. "I don't even know what this guy looks like, so don't go planning my future as a father there. I'm nowhere near ready for that. Let alone with your art teacher."

"Come on," she said in a near whine. But then in an instant, Rebecca composed herself. She swiftly fixed her attention on him and her expression solidified from dream-like to seriousness and sympathy. "Bucky, I really think this can do you some good."

By the shift of her tone of voice, Bucky knew she wasn't just talking about getting a date.

"Rebecca—"

"Think about the next time you could get an opportunity like this? To work with someone who wants to work with you? I know Professor Rogers, okay? He won't force you into anything you wouldn't want to do. He's just legitimately interested in you. He's a real caring fella. Trust me. Besides, maybe this is a sign— a push to nudge you in the right direction. The road to get your old life back? To start a new and better one?

"I'm really not trying to convince you to do this just for my benefit, but for yours too. Mainly for you; because I'm a supportive sister and all that cool stuff." She paused, smiling softly in his direction as Bucky listened intently. Somehow partially caught off guard. "I'm not trying to push you into doing something you don't want to do, but I am telling you to give this a try. All the best things that give you the best results are always a little scary. I kinda dug you into a hole if you don't at least talk to him once." She finished with a chuckle.

"I kinda dug myself into this one too." Bucky bit back the _so did Natasha_ part. He would have to really chat with her later if he had the chance.

Bucky stared down into his empty cup for a minute and thought.

There were some days he hated Rebecca's wisdom. Nearly all of them were because not only was she younger than him, but because she could pass as Bucky's twin if they were the same age. Every time he looked at her and into her eyes, he just saw a clear reflection of himself. Or more accurately: who he used to be. Who he still could be.

He knew that he would say the exact same things if the roles were reversed. She's always known how his brain worked and what would be best for him. In more ways than one, Rebecca had raised him just as much as he'd raised her.

"Do you really think..." He wasn't sure if he could finish the thought. He truly was afraid, and he wasn't sure if he could face his fears again.

"Yes." Rebecca stared firmly from her seat across from him. "I really do." She reached across the small table and placed her hand delicately on top of his clenched metal fist. He wasn't sure why she chose that hand and not the other one until he realized what she was implying.

His sensors weren't advanced enough to pick up her warmth, but he could imagine it paired along with the weight of her palm. He opened his metal fingers and allowed her to grab his hand. Reaching across, Bucky made the imagination into reality as he grabbed her other hand with his opposite.

His eyes spoke a silent promise that brought a large hopeful smile to his sisters lips, and a small one to his. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to drop a comment! I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts!
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr!](https://tumblr.com/blog/thatemo-fangirl)
> 
> (This link works! I think...if it doesn't, could someone kindly help me? lol)


	4. the other end of the line

Never once in his life, did Bucky ever think he would be as afraid to call someone as he is now.

His phone sat in the center of the dark coffee table, the screen black and inactive. The man himself was perched on his couch like a bird, staring at the device like if he took his eyes off of it would explode. It even got to the point that he had to consciously remind himself to blink every so often.

It would solve so many problems if he just _called_. He wouldn't be leaving Steven hanging without an answer any longer, he'd get both Natasha and Becca off his case about it, and he would be able to tell his conscience that he at least tried.

So he didn't understand why he was still waiting.

What he was doing at the moment seemed so childish to him. There was a part of him that was hoping maybe he wouldn't have to be the person to take the first step. That maybe Steven would call, and he would only have to have the guts to answer it. Not the other way around. So Bucky waited.

He knew there really wasn't a big chance that Steven would call first, but he liked to think there was. He was probably at work, because unlike Bucky, he had a steady job and things to do.

It was currently noon on a particularly rainy Tuesday. It's been nearly a week since his meeting with Natasha. Nearly a week of him refusing to change his decison and then avoiding to follow through once he did.

But he did change his decison. He to himself that he would call. That he would take the job. Would do as much as he possibly could without it getting too overwhelming.

It's not like he had much of a choice anyway. Becca had to go and bring it up to their parent's once they left Corner Café to go see them. Luckily, the twins were at school, because they would have had input of their own, but George and Winnifred were happily resting at home waiting for their daughter to visit. Bucky entering with her was just an added bonus. The both of them had also been supportive in the idea, telling Bucky that they couldn't wait to see his name in the media again, as long as it was what he wanted to do.

It really would have been a problem if it wasn't what he wanted to do. Luckily, he had changed his mind. Because if he hadn't, he was sure he would have a mob chasing him down. But Bucky was done with running away. He had been for years.

Resisting the urge to bite on his nails, Bucky focused on the rain hitting the windows from outside as he continued to participate in the world's longest staring contest with an inanimate object.

It was a real beautiful storm outside. One of the ones where in the past, back when he was still living in Indiana as a kid, he would run outside to would dance in the rain and splash in puddles and go back inside all muddied up. Or when he got older: the type of storm where he would be holding tight onto someone's hand as they ran through the Brooklyn streets with bags and newspapers over their heads looking for shelter.

But now Bucky was just sitting on his couch. Staring at a phone. He should have been prepared for it to ring. After all, it's what he was waiting for. Right?

His screen lit up, briefly showing his lockscreen picture of him and his family at Becca's high school graduation before it went to the call screen. The warbling ring tone scared Bucky more than he would have liked it too, and he slipped off the coushin and dropped to the floor between the couch and the coffee table with a painful thud.

He caught himself before his head met the same fate as his knees. After stifling the pain with a low curse, he reached and grabbed his phone, which was slowly buzzing itself off the table.

He didn't know whether to be more scared or less scared that instead of reading 'Unknown Number', 'Natasha's Cell' was written on the top of the screen in big white letters.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled himself back up to a sitting position on the couch and then answered the call, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Oh, you'll answer for me," she said, her tone annoyed and making Bucky's eyes open in alarm.

"You'd rip me a new one if I didn't," he stated carefully, "Especially since you're calling _as my friend_." He emphasized the fact that she was calling from her personal phone. Which either meant this was important and she couldn't make it to her office, or she wanted to speak to him without the conversation becoming work related. He honestly hoped it was the latter, but with her tone he figured it could go either way.

"We need to talk."

"Uh-oh." The words were sarcastic but underlaced with real concern.

"Oh, shut up, Barnes." Bucky could basically hear the eye roll from over the phone. "This is serious."

"I wouldn't doubt it." Bucky outstretched his legs and rubbed his knees. "What's going on?"

"This is just getting childish at this point!"

"What is?"

"You not answering Steve's call!"

Bucky nearly dropped his phone as his eyes went wide and his fingers fumbled to put Natasha on speaker phone. "What do you mean?" He asked. "He never called me!"

"Well that's not what he told me." Natasha sighed as Bucky scrolled through his call history, looking for a number he didn't recognize, but all he found was Natasha's office phone and Becca's name. Not even a spam call or wrong number in the past week. "He said he called, and was immediately sent to voicemail."

"I swear, I didn't send him to voicemail!" Bucky defended.

He knew for a fact that he hadn't answered any calls because he hadn't gotten any, but it still didn't stop him from checking his voicemail for a new message just in case he somehow overlooked the call.

"Nat, I really don't know. I never got a call. I swear I would have picked up." Silence. "Really."

"So you decided to take it after all?"

"Yeah. I guess."

"So then what are you waiting for? Call him already!"

Bucky blinked. "Wha—how—excuse me?"

"You don't really need a liason. Just call him Bucky. Sort things out. There's a lot to do, but you'll be fine. You've done it before. If you want, we can go out for drinks after and you can tell me all about it. Now go."

Bucky was slack-jawed and struggling to comprehend the split second change in Natasha's attitude as well as the beep that filled his ears as she hung up the call. No doubt she would either text or call him or even Steven later to see if they talked or not. Today was the day whether he liked it or not.

Bucky sighed and raked both of his hands through his hair before glancing back at his phone—screen dark again. _I shouldn't be doing this,_ he thought as he picked up his phone. _He's probably at work._ He grabbed the beaten piece of folded paper from the pile on the cofee table and flipped it open to see Steven's number. _I don't want to be interuppting anything._

Bucky's thumb hovered over the call button. _Will_ _I_ _have enough guts to do this again later?_ He weighed his options. _No._

Pressing the green button, and after hearing the faint first ring, Bucky held his phone to his ear and waited.

The line picked up before the third ring.

"I'm sorry, I don't know how many more times I can say I don't want an apartment in Paris." The voice spoke and Bucky's confusion only lasted a couple of seconds.

"I'm not trying to get you to buy an apartment in Paris?"

"Oh," came the voice. "You're not the spam caller I thought you were."

A small dry smile quickly flashed across Bucky's face. Not like he would see it. "Nope. Are you Steven Rogers?"

"Are you..." Making sure he wasn't still a spam caller. Bucky could understand that.

"Oh. Um, James Barnes." Bucky supplied just a second before he flinched. Over the phone, it sounded like Steven had dropped his. There was a muffled curse and then a hurried reply.

"Hi!" The amount of surprise and excitement in his voice reminded Bucky of why he called in the first place. The guilt was loosening its hold. But the fear was still stubborn in its grip. "Yeah, I'm Ste—that's me."

"I'm not interuppting you or anything? If you want I can call back later if that would be better—?"

"No! No—sorry—no, you're not. I'm on my lunch break. We can talk now."

"Okay. Um," Bucky wasn't too sure which words to use. "I'm sorry," was what came out. "I mean, for making you wait so long for an answer. I know—Natasha told me about you wanting to work with me, and I...I just needed time to think about it."

He heard a relieved sigh. "That's perfectly fine. I was willing to wait a while if that's what it took. Well, Natasha advised me to do so, and also I wanted to make sure you actually had time to think. To be honest, I was really hoping you'd call first. I didn't want to put any pressure on you."

"Well I'm glad we avoided _that_ issue. I may or may not have been waiting for you to call me." Bucky admitted, closing his eyes.

"Me too. I'm happy you called though, if you can't tell. Better a call then nothing."

"Trust me," Bucky chuckled, "I can." He was sure he heard enough excitement in Steven's voice to equal a child opening up their presents on Christmas Day.

"Is there a day we could meet up in person?" Bucky began. "There's a lot I want to go over before we start working together, and I'd rather it not be over the phone."

"I—you—you're accepting! That's amazing!"

"It took a team, but yeah."

Bucky wasn't expecting Steven's voice to quiet down. His tone shifted from enthusiastic to worry. "You're not agreeing to work with me out of obligation, are you?"

"Uh," Was he? Bucky wasn't too sure. "I truly do want to try working with you. This is all new, and I think it can be good for the both of us." He answered truthfully.

"I don't want to pressure you into anything," he continued.

"You're not. I promise."

There was a comfortable silence as Steven weighed his words. But it didn't last long before there was a sift exclamation and his voice rumbled over the line again.

"It was really nice talking to you again James. My next class is about to start, but I'm free any time after five if you want to discuss over a meal?"

"Tonight?" Well, that's not what Bucky was expecting. Could he prepare himself enough in just a couple of hours? _Again?_

What was he really worrying about? He couldn't just be scared to talk to someone, now that was just ridiculous. He was Bucky Barnes.

"If tonight doesn't work, that's okay!" Steven added quickly. "I'm not really free until the weekend though—grading and other school stuff—"

"No, tonight is fine." Bucky interuppted. He hesitated when he heard the sound of a door open and he remembered that Steven had a class to teach. He kept in the question of whether Becca was one of the students about to walk in.

"Great! So I'll see you tonight."

"Yes." Bucky agreed, feeling a little awkward. "I don't want to keep you any longer. Get you in trouble."

"It's fine." He paused. "Bye,"

"Yeah, bye."

Bucky kept listening a second longer. He entirely wasn't sure why, maybe just to make sure there wasn't anything else to be said. At the sound of the end of the call, Bucky tossed his phone into the corner of the couch.

Now that he was past one obstacle, he gained enough confidence that he would be able to clean up and get ready for a meeting with his new coworker...

His gaze dropped back to his phone, and Bucky realized that him and Steven never actually settled on a meeting place. Bucky groaned into his hands, leaning so far forward that he had nearly headbutt the dark water-stained coffee table. He didn't want to call back. Not when he knew this time that he would be busy.

He grabbed his phone again, but not to contact Steven. He was going to have to remember to ask him later. Around four seemed like a safe bet. Until then, he'd have to work on exactly what he wanted.

Saving Steven's number to his contacts, he then went to his messages and found Natasha's name.

Drinks were going to have to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what's going to finally happen next chapter?!


	5. one foot in front of the other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I just love dramatic irony. Wouldn't you agree?
> 
> On another note, I want to say happy birthday to Aciremii!! I'm putting this up a day early for you :) If you read the notes (I know sometimes you don't), I know you — as well as everyone else that reads this! — have been waiting for this chapter since the first, and it's finally here.

Bucky Barnes: finest in the art of procrastination.

After the call had ended, Bucky looked around his apartment and realized just how messy it looked, suddenly getting the urge to pick it up. He knew that with the way he always saved the small stuff for later, it wouldn't take long to get messy again, but Bucky just needed something to busy his mind with. It was his way of trying to work out nerves, but it almost always acted more as a distraction rather than getting rid of them.

Under the couch had gotten a visit for the first time in a while, the kitchen cabinets got a reorganizing, the mop was moved from it's dusty corner, and pretty much anything else that needed to get done got done. Bucky hadn't realized just how much work he needed to put into cleaning until he was doing it. It never crossed his mind that his apartment was _dirty._ No it wasn't dirty, just lived in.

After having collected stray clothes from every room and tossing them in the hamper, Bucky knew laundry was next on his newly made list.

By the time the wash was done and he put the soaking clothes into dryer, Bucky himself was sweating and dirty. Glancing at the time, he figured he had enough time to take a quick shower and change before he would call Steven again and figure out where he should go.

He wasn't trying to take his time — he knew he had a time limit — so Bucky did his best to scrub up quickly to get out as fast as he could. To him, the thing that took the longest was making sure all the safeties were proper as he took off his arm before he stepped under the water.

Bucky was rubbing a towel on his head in an attempt to dry his hair quicker as he paced his bedroom. It wasn't until he caught a glimpse of his nightstand clock in the mirror as he was reattatching his arm that he realized just how long he had been.

His fingers fumbled to make sure the connection was stable as he moved to his bed and tried to do two things at one. He flexed his left hand as he picked up his phone. As he frantically searched for the phone app, he stretched out his arm just to make sure he didn't miss a step.

It was a quarter to five and he had wanted to call earlier in case he wouldn't be able to walk the distance. He was about to hit call when his phone buzzed in his hand and surprising Bucky and making his anxiety pause for a moment, a message from Steven popped up on the screen.

**Steven Rogers: Change of plans.**

The only think Bucky could think was that they both had the same realization at the same time. What pure luck that was. As he clicked on the banner, another message came in.

**Steven Rogers: Well, not really plans. We kind of never made any. My fault.**

And another.

 **Steven Rogers: Anyway,** **I** **hope it's okay that instead of going out we meet at my place? I can't really leave right now.**

Bucky couldn't lie; he was relieved. He honestly wouldn't know where to suggest, especially for the current situation. They were only supposed to meet and talk, not to start working immediately. A restaurant was too formal. A coffee shop was too casual. But was his house really the best choice?

In this case: yes.

Bucky didn't question why he wouldn't be able to leave. He came this far, and he didn't want to ruin the chances that he would follow through.

**That's perfectly fine.**

**What time should I be there?**

Bucky replied.

**Steven Rogers: Great! Is 6:00 okay? I'll send the address.**

**See you then.**

Bucky sighed and turned off his phone before he pulled his shirt over his head, fitting his arms through the long sleeves.

Bucky pulled a brush through his hair and loosely tied it back. Looking as his phone buzzed again, he stared at the address on the screen, recognizing it to be on the street just across from Natasha's office.

That was nice to know, it was only a short walk away. But Bucky couldn't help but to think something about the address seemed familiar, even if he's never been there.

He decided to worry about it later and spent the time he had before he had to leave putting away the clean clothes from the dryer.

Soon enough, Bucky was pulling on his jacket and lacing up his boots, and leaving his newly tidied apartment behind.

He knew the way because he's been to Natasha's an uncountable amount of times by now, having gone there nearly every week when he was writing. Unsurprisingly, she was a really good editor as well and offered him some tips that helped show his story from a more descriptive point of view.

It wasn't until he saw the building nearing from down the street that Bucky realized that he was getting close to where he was supposed to be: Steven's home.

He slowed down his pace and counted the numbers of the Brooklyn brownstones as he passed them by. The setting sun making the brown exterior of the houses on the street orange with golden sun spots dancing across the surface.

It was funny. He walked this street every time he came down here, yet this time, something seemed different about the familiarity. Maybe it was just because he was walking this way with a different purpose.

It wasn't until he made out figures coming into view as he walked closer that he realized why he was getting a faint feeling of déjà vu.

The day he had come back from Natasha's after she had told him about Steven, he had seen the same man with his wife and kids getting into a car.

Now that Bucky had a clear look at him, he didn't look exactly like a typical father, with a mohawk and hair growing in from previously shaved sides, and tattoos weaving up his arms, but there was no mistaking the adoration in which he was looking at the young boy coloring on the sidewalk with colored chalk for anything other than of a fathers.

Bucky went back to looking at the numbers. He knew he was nearing the right address. He just wasn't expecting to stop right next to where the man was sitting on the stairs with his son. At that point, Bucky had felt the eyes on him. Glancing back at the man, his son blissfully unaware of him and continuing to enjoy drawing his rendition of a Picasso painting, Bucky saw him send a smirk in his direction as well as a short and quick salute. Bucky couldn't help but to feel like somehow, the man was waiting for him to show up.

Bucky just gave a short nod back. He had a bigger problem than to worry about why this guy had been waiting for him — if he even had. It could just be Bucky's paranoia setting in.

Bucky stared up at the arched double doors that waited for him at the top of the stairs. Suddenly, his legs protested the command to move forward. It shouldn't have been hard. It should have been like walking. One foot in front of the other. Climbing stairs were barely any different. He did it most days to get to his apartment.

Not wanting to seem like he was hesitant in front of this guy, Bucky willed himself to move forward, open the first door to get to the second one, and knock on the front door in one action, knowing he would have to stop and prepare again if he made them separate.

"One second!" He heard a voice almost immediately reply, recognizing it to be Steven's from over the phone.

At the sound of his voice, Bucky instantly began to feel regret. He started to doubt his reasons for coming. Would it even be worth it in the end? What would happen to him if he went through this?

"Hey —! You knocked it over, pick it up please?" The voice came again, now closer, but still from inside.

The sound of a giggle and small rapid footsteps came next, and Bucky froze.

That was a kid.

As if his brain made the decision without consulting all of him, his head turned to look through the window to the man, who was occasionally glancing in his direction. The day he'd seen him, he had also seen a flash of blonde hair get into the car with his kids.

When he was talking with Becca, she said she couldn't wait for Bucky to have a little girl so she could be an aunt. But what if she hadn't meant it to be _his_ little girl?

The man he talked to when Sarah collided with him...

The door swung open and Bucky flinched a little from the sudden action, getting ripped from his thoughts and ludicrous hypothesis.

He stared straight ahead, but his gaze quickly fell down when he wasn't met with Steven's face. Instead, he saw Sarah beaming up at him as she hid half behind the door, still giggling to herself.

"Dad's been waiting for you!" She exclaimed, and all Bucky could do was blink.

He should have seen it coming, really. All the clues were there. He thought he was more perceptive than that. But in reality, he really hadn't. And now, he was standing, shocked, in front of the open door leading into Steven Rogers' home, as his daughter grinned and waited for him to come in.

" _Sarah!"_ Steven's voice sounded off again, this time, the man himself coming into view.

Bucky looked back up, breaking out of his trance, and saw him struggling to carry three coats while simultaneously pushing up a coat rack. In fluid motions, he had put the coats back up and headed toward the door. Where Bucky was still silent and standing still.

It really was the same man. The same golden hair. The same deep ocean blue eyes. And Sarah was the perfect kid version carbon copy.

"Hi." Steven smiled sheepishly at Bucky before quickly assuming a spot next to Sarah.

It made so much since now why the first time they met, he had seemed so sure of meeting again. Bucky hadn't known who he was, but he knew him.

"It's you — uh...hi."

"Yeah," Steven chuckled, and Bucky saw out of the corner of his eye Sarah tilt her head to look up at him. "It's me. Would you like to come in?"

Bucky doesn't say anything and instead nods, still trying to wrap his mind around what just happened. Although, it shouldn't have been too hard.

He did, however, catch Steven glance through the window on the door toward the man — an annoyed look on his face, before he closed the front door and turned around to greet Bucky. Expression gone, and an easy grin replacing it.

"I'm so glad you thought this over. I'm really looking forward to working with you, James." He outstretched his arm.

 _Bucky._ Bucky immediately corrects in his head. Everyone close to him calls him Bucky. But the correction doesn't come out. Steven isn't close to him.

"Yeah," He didn't want to make the mistake of saying me too. He needed to be sure they were both on the same page before they actually started working. Bucky smiled tersely and took Steven's hand and shook it briefly. It was a little awkward, considering Sarah had been standing silent between the two of them. Bucky could see she kept looking between them both, a smile on her face like she knew something they didn't.

"If I'm being honest, I'm pretty nervous right now." Steve admitted with a dry laugh, taking Bucky by surprise again. "I've been looking forward to this, but I've been so busy with work that I almost messed this up. Forgetting to tell you where to go and all."

"It's fine, really," Bucky tried to assure him. "It all worked out."

"Are you sure it's fine Sarah's here? My neighbors usually babysit, but they... I guess Clint _insisted_ I keep her here."

Another internal question. "I'm sure." Bucky stated and smiled again down at Sarah, who then ran to the window and drew Bucky's attention back outside. "That's Clint out there?" Bucky asked, guesturing towards the door and Steven turned his head briefly in the direction.

"Yeah, him and Nathaniel, his son. We've known each other for years, and the Barton family is a godsend most days."

"I'm sure they have their reasons, then. Today's just going to be all talk anyways." Bucky saw the grateful look of understanding on the face across from his.

"Sarah, how about you go upstairs and play for a bit? Dinner should be done soon."

"Okay." Her small voice replied, hopping away from the window and racing up the stairs.

As Bucky's eyes tracked her for a moment, he realized he hadn't yet looked at his surroundings. Turning around, he saw that they were standing in an open hallway that led to the living room just a couple steps away. A door that was most likely a bathroom or a closet and the kitchen were at the other end of the building, and he was standing right next to the flight of stairs that led to the second floor.

"Dinner?" Bucky asked.

"We normally don't eat this late, but today has been unexpected after unexpected." The blond sighed. Bucky almost snorted at that truth. "Hope you're hungry,"

"Normally the home-cooked meals come after the first date." Bucky joked, instantly taken aback about how natural it seemed. Trying quickly to hide the disbelief of his own words, Bucky smiled again just like he would if he had _meant_ to do it on purpose. It felt a little forced, and he hoped it hadn't looked it. Steven just laughed along, shaking his head slightly as he motioned for Bucky to follow him.

Again, he inspected his surroundings, noting the exits before noticing just how homey the place really was. From what he could see, both the living room and the kitchen were filled with warm and comforting colors. Books and papers and toys were on every surface visible. A light purple backpack was slumped against the couch, wide open with a folder sticking out. The chairs weren't pushed in, there were faded drawings on the walls as well as a space where it marked Sarah's height over the years. Pictures lined the walls, and on top of the fireplace with Steven and Sarah and others in the frames. It didn't take long for Bucky to realize he truly was in a home. Steven Rogers' home.

"You can just hang up your coat here," Bucky turned his attention back to the man he came here for. The shock of seeing him for the second time — as well as Sarah — and knowing who he was, was now fading. Sadly unmasking his previously forgotten about nerves. "Do you mind if we sit down?"

"It'll probably be best." Bucky hesitantly shedded his dark jacket and hung it up. "There's a lot for us to talk about."


	6. breaking the habit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such the long wait! School and stress and other things had me distracted and not in the right mindset to write, but all that matters is that the next chapter is out now. Hope you enjoy!

It wasn't as hard following Steven inside as Bucky thought it would be. The hard part — getting there — was done. Well, that's what he believed to be the hard part. There really was no sense in leaving now. Not when he was ready in the home of Steven Rogers and had two witnesses to say he showed up. Yeah, he wasn't forgetting about Sarah anytime soon.

"We normally don't eat in the kitchen, I hope you don't mind. It's just a little bit easier to talk in." Bucky heard Steven tell him as he was hanging his jacket on the hook like he was directed.

"Not at all." Bucky replied before Steven gestured to follow him through the length of the brownstone to the kitchen. The first thing he noticed was the smell of cooking beef and tomato paste in the air. Dinner, he supposed.

Moving past the stairs, Bucky caught a glimpse of a sheet of blonde hair wave from the top. Turning his head to where he was suspecting Sarah was listening in, he quickly saw the girl move back and out of his immediate view. Bucky had experience with kids her age, Becca and the twins to be exact, as well as his time with the military, so he knew that she would have to be sneakier than that to get past his radar. But just until he figured out why she was spying — just out of child-like curiosity or otherwise — he figured to let it slide. There was no use in telling her to stop; not when he wasn't trying to be secret anyway.

Bucky could see through the archway to his right was the dining room. A room slightly smaller than the kitchen, but a more formal wooden table situated in the middle. A mirror was on the wall directly perpendicular with him, and Bucky caught a glimpse of himself. His hair was fine enough, but even with the distance he could see the bags under his eyes, the thick stubble he just decided to let grow in but never grooms.

He hated the fact that even though he had cleaned up to the best of his ability, he still didn't look nearly as well put together as Steven did, and that man was constantly chasing down a five year old kid. Bucky looked down at the floor, suddenly feeling even more out of place; his dark clothing even accentuating that fact, him being the only thing in the place he could see without a warm undertone. His gaze drifted back to the dining table and he felt a little bit better about himself, seeing a large cluttered mess a mix of papers and books and art supplies on the surface. Looks like Steven was human just like anyone else.

He figured his expression changed, because Steven glanced at the very dining room that looked like it hadn't been used for a week at least before back at Bucky, sporting a small defeated smile. 

"You know I'm lying, don't you?"

"Points for trying to sound sophisticated." Bucky snorted. "You succeeded better than I have." 

"It's a lot more efficient, I gotta say," Steven chuckled and Bucky watched as he quickly gathered more recent drawings of Sarah's and random mail off of the table in the corner of the kitchen. "Call us lazy,"

"Not when I'm just as guilty," Bucky reassured him. He noticed that he was starting to feel a little more comfortable in his surroundings. Having a child around was still something Bucky was still a little hesitant about; he knew that his appearance and outside demeanor wasn't always the best since these last couple of years, and he didn't want to risk hurting or scaring her, but he also had to remind himself that Sarah didn't seem to share his fears. 

"You don't have any allergies, do you?" He heard the man ask and Bucky pulled himself out of his thoughts to pay attention. "I have meatloaf baking, but there's a bunch of other food I can cook for you if you want..." Steven trailed off and Bucky shook his head. 

"No, that should be fine, thanks."

Steven smiled widely and in acknowledgment, pulled out one of the chairs. "Take a seat. We have a couple minutes, if you want to get started."

This was the reason Bucky told himself he would come here. He didn't want to jump into this potentially mentally troubling project without laying down any rules.

So it was only fitting that he wasn't sure how to proceed.

Bucky took a deep breath after sitting down. He was trying to will himself to not be so anxious, especially because Steven's been a great host so far, even if he was a little jumpy himself. Bucky had taken note of the way he never kept his eyes off Bucky for long and the small nervous habits like drumming his fingers against his leg. It was less like scanning a potential threat like the first time they met, and more like excitement. He reminded himself about how he felt just a couple of minutes ago. How he was getting used to being somewhere else and talking to someone else outside of close friends and family, and focused on that feeling. Readying himself to get into his work mindset. 

Steven had been the one to contact him. This was his project, and he wanted Bucky's help. The least he could do was to give him a chance, Bucky had already settled on that front. But in a partnership, both sides had to understand each other to work together. 

"First off, I do want to thank you again. I know it was a little...difficult -- to say the least -- arranging this meeting, but I truly do appreciate you being here." Steven began, a grateful look in his eyes. "I've been really looking forward to working with you."   
  
"Why?" The word tumbled out of Bucky's mouth before he could even process that he asked it. He knew he couldn't completley blame himself though. The question had been on his mind since day one. "I mean: why me?" 

Steve opened his mouth to answer, the shock evident, before he sighed and closed it. For a brief moment, Bucky watched as Steve thought before answering, the air becoming serious. "Doing research for this story, I came across your book. And honestly, I fell in love with your writing. How honest and to the bone you were, not holding back about your experiences and how they affected you both physically and mentally. It was unlike any other war vet's autobiography I've read before. They always seemed to keep details out." He paused and Bucky found Steven's eyes staring right into his. "But not you. You wrote in a way that told your readers just what you went through and brought them along. Not many authors do that, in fear that it would scare off readers. And while I have to admit, it took me a while to get through your book because the words inserted me into a world -- just like fiction -- I just wasn't prepared for. I've been through a lot, but I could have never imagined someone could go through what you haveand come back sane, let alone willing to share it with the world. 

"I knew I had the basic concept of wanting to show the ugly part of war that people never seem to grasp the concept of, to show that it never leaves, but everything I wrote never portrayed as much emotion as one paragraph of yours did. That's when I knew I needed to work with you. Because your way of writing is the missing piece I need for me to create this story the way I envision it." Then Steven smiled wryly, a hand reaching up to scratch at the back of his head, and he stared down at the table, breaking eye contact. "That, and me being the optimist people say I am, I wanted you to know that I'm a pretty good listener." 

Out of lack of better words, all Bucky could think was that he definitely wasn't expecting that answer. There was silence between the two of them as Bucky's mind was trying to figure out how to respond. Not only was that probably the biggest compliment he'd received in a while, but it was heartfelt. Steven had a solid and genuine reason for choosing _him_ of all people to work with. Not to mention, as elementary as it seemed, the potential for them to be friends; not just to work together and leave it at that.

" _Oh_ ," Was all that came out, in a sound of surprise, no less. For a man who was just told he had a certain way with words, his entire vocabulary blanked. 

Luckily, the timer on the the oven beeped, and Steven sent him a small smile before standing up to turn it off. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and tried to bring his focus back. It seemed like Steven had high expectations of him -- higher than he initially assumed -- and he had to reassess. Was he really ready to do this? _Could_ he really do this? 

A small giggle had Bucky looking up from where he was holding his head in his hands and taking calming breaths. It didn't take long to spot the girl hiding half behind the doorway separating the kitchen from the hallway, her eyes focused on Bucky. She grinned once Bucky saw her, and he couldn't help but to smile back, like her own was infectious. 

"Sarah!" Steven called and Bucky's attention went back to him to see as he closed the fridge, pulling out a bowl of pre-prepared salad. "It's time to eat -- and you're right there." Steven blinked before smiling down at his daughter. "You aren't bothering James, are you?" 

"Am I bothering you?" She asked innocently, hopping into the seat at the round table next to him. 

"Of course not." Bucky told her and her father. "You remind me of my sisters," 

"You have siblings?" Sarah asked and Bucky saw out of the corner of his eye Steven glance at him as he pulled down plates from a cabinet. 

"Oh yeah. Three younger sisters. They're all a little grown up now, but they're just like you." He explained. 

"How so?" She asked curiously. 

"Well for one, all of you are just as nosy as the next." He teased and Sarah laughed again while a dry snort came from Bucky's left. 

"That sounds like Sarah, sticking her nose into everyone else's business." Steven said with an eye roll, placing down plates and cutlery. 

"If you want," Bucky started, leaning down to be more level with the young girl, "I have a friend who's really good at figuring people out. I'm sure she'll offer you a few tips. She owes me one anyway." 

"Really?"

"Let's put a pin in that for now," Steven interrupted, placing down the meatloaf in the center of the table as well as the bowl of salad from where he was holding it with his arm. "I'll have to think carefully about raising a little spy."

Sarah wore a pout for approximately three seconds before she seemed to sigh and move on. "Maybe that's the best decision, yeah." Bucky felt a grin break out for a moment before he nodded to the food. "I could have helped, if you wanted me too."  
  
"No, it was fine," He dismissed. "You're a guest in my home, it's the least I could do." 

"I'm a _guest_ in your home," Bucky used the same thing to counter. "It was the least _I_ could do." 

Steven seemed to attempt to hold back a smile, watching Bucky like he was some sort of test or puzzle. "Remind me for next time, then," He seemed to settle, chuckling to himself and Bucky smiled again.

"Next time, huh?" 

"It's up to you of course. You don't have to take the job, if you're not comfortable, I would understand." Bucky's smile faltered as Steven just shrugged, seemingly not realizing that he had just addressed Bucky's greatest concern as casually as he could get. "It's a pretty heavy topic, and I would completely get it if you don't want to go through that again. All I can do is hope there's a next time. Like I said before: I'm really looking forward to working with you." 

"Dad," Sarah chided playfully in her small voice. "No work during dinner," she reminded.  
  
"Right. Sorry." Steve shook his head and pushed her hair behind her ear with a loving smile before reaching over to serve his daughter. 

Bucky just looked at the two people sitting in front of him, making up his mind. He only had two options, anyway. "I think a next time can be arranged." 


	7. baby steps

Bucky didn't think he could have been any stupider.

Okay. Maybe he was overexaggerating. But one thing was for sure: he definitely wasn't acting like himself during his time at the Rogers' residence. Not to mention completely unprepared.

Or maybe he was. And that was equal parts thrilling to think about and absolutely terrifying.

For the first time in a long time, Bucky had felt comforted in a place that wasn't one he was familiar with. Steven Rogers was one of the most hospitable and empathetic people he had met in his life, and that was a huge surprise, considering his initial thought on who the man would be—besides being attractive. That was a given. It had inevitably run through Bucky's mind that someone who was as insistent on working alongside him like he was would be someone completely focused on their work, wanting nothing but to execute their dream no matter the cost.

But Steven seemed far from it. At least that's what he could determine from the few encounters him and Bucky have had.

Over the course of dinner, which was a much needed and welcome break from the reality Bucky lived in, it was easy to see just how much thought and care Steven had put into making his choices. Ones that even concluded having read Bucky's work and researching him prior to their meeting. Steven understood Bucky, even if they hadn't gone through the same things. He respected Bucky's decisions and made it clear that there was nothing he would do without it being comfortable. He knew that Bucky suffered from PTSD and clinical depression, but not once had Steven dehumanized him or treated Bucky as an inferior.

They were equals, despite their differences. And if that wasn’t reason enough for Bucky to give the guy a chance, he didn’t know what would. 

It was far more than Bucky had been prepared for in a complete stranger. The only other people that viewed him that way were his family and Natasha. And even then, it had taken them some time. His family especially. They were so used to the Bucky Barnes they knew from birth, and it took a little while to understand why he couldn't just spring back to exactly who he was before he served.

Natasha was different, having met him post-military. But she had known of him from before then. Everyone knew the name Barnes, they'd be a fool not to if they lived in New York longer than a few years. The name behind one of the larger manufacturing businesses in the city, George Barnes had created a stable life for him and his family. Growing up, Bucky was often included on camera for publicity. The public had made a personal for him, most of which was true. At the time, he hadn't been the most exclusive person. Bucky knew she had a sense of who he was rumored to be, and at the beginning of their friendship, he could tell she was searching for the remnants of the public James Barnes. Sometimes, she still does.

So it was all the more shocking when right off the bat, Steven hadn't done any of those things even when he knew Bucky's story. From both the before and the now. He didn't expect anyone different. He didn't search for a person that wasn't fully there.

And in a way, the simple acts he made, he sort of brought bits of the old Bucky back out.

Bucky had been relaxed. Something he wasn't often. Even in his own apartment. There he sat, in the home of people that accepted him for who he was and wasn't trying to pressure him into doing something he couldn't handle or becoming something he wasn't, and he felt at ease. It was comforting.

Of course, this had only been the first time Bucky had ever talked to Steven face to face, so there was always room for error. It had been a long time since something good had happened to Bucky, and he knew not to believe it until he had a solid reason to.

But on the other hand, it had also been a long time since he felt like that. And after all he's been through, he knew he couldn't lie to himself. He didn't want that to go away. If he was going to make a list of why he accepted the job, that fact would make up a large percentage. 

However, at the same time, Bucky had his fears. Some would haunt him for the rest of his life, some of them were new.

Bucky agreed to work with Steven, but technically nothing would be official until the next time they met. That's when the real work started. When Bucky would find out exactly what kind of story he would be contributing to.

The entire reason for Bucky even being there was because of a job. But in more than one instance, Steven had seemed inviting enough to let him into his life as more than just a coworker, but as a friend. And Bucky would really be lying if he said that he wouldn't like that.

The thing was, since Bucky had gotten back to Brooklyn, he's been having trouble getting close to anyone. Even the people he wanted to get close to. He always messed something up somewhere down the line, whether it be right in the beginning, or even after a month of two. He always did something wrong.

The offer to continue letting Steven—and Sarah of course— into his life even after their work was done made him freeze and think. They were both amazing people that he didn't want to scare off. They were bright and warm like the sun, and Bucky felt like he was the dark side of the moon.

He could feel himself warming up the longer he stayed in their presence, pieces of him he hadn't seen in a long time beginning to shine through. But what happened when the darkness in him began to snuff them out?

Going off of his past experiences, the situation seemed inexorable. As much as he didn't want to think about it, the odds were stacked against him. And he was scared to live through the outcome yet again. 

So for the time being, Bucky had made the decision to keep their relationship strictly professional.

He wasn't able to do it with Natasha, but Bucky had liked to think that forming a friendship with her was unavoidable. She had been there for him to offer help in her own assertive way through the process of getting published, and she was the one to make the choice to continue to do so even after. It was sort of something that just happened.

But Bucky wanted to establish that he had control over his own choices this time. And that maintaining a coworker relationship was something he could do naturally. He figured it shouldn't be too hard.

At least, that was the plan for the time being. He knew things could always change— often suddenly—but it was going to take more than one dinner for Bucky to commit himself to including two more people into her personal life. Especially because while Steven and Sarah seemed like they were an amazing family, he still didn't know much about them. As did they about him. No amount of research could make someone think they really know another.

One thing he knew for certain was that with a relationship of any kind, you had to get to know a person. Or in this case, persons. Not wanting to stray from the plan he made, his goal was to take it slow. Test the waters. Evaluate and make another decision from there. Rinse and repeat.

Baby steps, right?

Bucky’s phone seemed to ring the second he shut the front door of his apartment behind him. Looking down at Natasha’s office contact on his screen, he couldn’t help but to stare at it in both confusion and wonder. She must have been working late.

Answering the call, and bringing his phone to his ear, he locked his door behind him. “Hello?”

“How did it go?” 

The question was simple and straight to the point, and Bucky was quiet, filled with both confusion and slight amounts of concern. He knew Natasha could do a lot of things, but knowing exactly when he had gotten back from dinner with the Rogers’ seemed a tad extreme. Or maybe she just had insanely good intuition and he was overthinking things. Toeing off his shoes by the door, Bucky spoke. 

“You’re scary sometimes, you know that?”

“Yes. No need to remind me.” She sighed over the line. “So?”

She wanted to get straight to the point. He could understand why. “It was...nice. I accepted.” 

There was a moment of quiet and Bucky assumed she was nodding her head. He could nearly picture it in his mind. “That’s good. I’m happy for you. We can talk more about this later, but have you figured out your 'what now’?” 

“Sort of.” Bucky replied. “I’m still thinking a lot of things over, but I have made the decision that I want to do this. If not solely for myself, but for Steven. He seems like a good man. And his daughter is adorable.” 

“Oh?” 

Bucky let out a short laugh, entering his kitchen and grabbing a water bottle from the refrigerator, leaning casually against the counter as he readjusted his phone. Something about Natasha’s tone of voice seemed like she already knew. “Yeah. We wound up having dinner at his house because he couldn’t find a sitter. You failed to mention he had a kid though.” 

“I didn’t think it was pertinent information to the decision you were struggling to make. She couldn’t have been the deciding factor, was she?” 

“No, of course not.” Bucky placed down his drink. “But she was fun to be around. Her and her father have a really great relationship dynamic. I actually think I said something about introducing her to you.” He mentioned off handedly. 

“You act as if I haven’t already.”  
  
“Have you?”   
  
“Maybe.” A snort on his end. Bucky was used to Natasha’s vagueness by now. She always became more clear later, no matter how annoying the wait could be. “Well, I think I’ll let you go. I have someone to meet up with.” 

“Another client? This late?”

He could hear the shift in tone become more casual as she chuckled. “It’s not even that late. Besides, you know I have a life outside of the office. You know the word, friends. You aren’t the only one, despite what you might think.”

“All right, all right. You go have fun then.” 

“I still expect drinks later. And to hear more. I need to be kept up to date on everything.”   
  
“Got it Boss,”

“You pay me,” 

“Right.” He closed his eyes. “See you later.” 

A goodbye from Natasha and a phone finding a new home on the living room couch later, Bucky was alone with his thoughts again.

He thought about Natasha and Becca. The people who had wanted him to take on this project the most. He supposed he would tell his sister soon, considering she didn’t find out during her next class with Steven. She could wait though. Let her hold on to her wild fantasies for a little bit longer. 

Though for some reasons the same and some different, both of them had seen the positive results this job could have for Bucky and he had them to thank for helping make his decision. Sure, he had felt a little pressure--who was he kidding, a lot of pressure--but in the end, the choice was his, and the choice would continue to be his. 

He didn’t have to be compliant anymore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For everyone who's still sticking around, I just want to say thank you. I know I'm a bit hectic and updates are sporadic and far between, but I've been getting better at management and actually having the time to sit down and write more and more. That being said, I really appreciate all of you, and fingers crossed I don't go this long without posting again because it's torture to me just as much as it is to you.

**Author's Note:**

> 20 days in and I'm just NOW doing this...wow.
> 
> If anyone wants too, you can find me on [Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thatemo-fangirl)
> 
> I'm not entirely sure how to use it correctly (any beginners tips would be appreciated), and frankly, it's a little intimidating. I'm sure I'll get the hang of it!
> 
> If the link doesn’t work—because I got a little confused and am unsure if that’s the right one—I’m thatemo-fangirl over on Tumblr! :)


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